Humans are attrition hunters. In groups, the hunters isolate and stalk their running prey. The prey is given a lead, believes it has escaped, only to see the hunters coming again on the horison, following tracks and small forest signs. Over and over this dance goes until the prey is too exhausted to continue. Only then do the hunters release it's life.
Scarlette had the white rabbit in her sights. She'd been tracking him for days, still as topless as she was in battle. Her exertion kept her warm in the cold Ettinsmoor air. She watched him zig into the foliage at the edge of a clearing and she hid herself nearby and waited for him to make a break for it. She was delirious with no sleep and exhaustion but hanging in there. Luckily she didnt have to wait long. She shot after him like a bolt.
He made a miscalculation and found himself between a rockface, a boulder, a ledge, and her. She had him and only stopped because she realized Aslan had only told her to follow the white rabbit, not what to do when she caught him. Her indecision didn't last long.
Two nets came down over them both. Burly men surrounded them.
"Lads!" exclaimed the rabbit. "I can do more with my feet and teeth than you can do with your daggers. To learn how much more, you need only get closer."
"A talking one then. Thought it was a bugger of a hare. No stew tonight lest we lose a fortune." said the leader. The other men looked disappointed.
"Do not come closer! This blood on me is not mine! Beware!" he warned. Scarlette look on in horror. The men picked their captives up and hung their nets from pulleys to lower them down, but not without uneccessary groping and comments about Scarlette and her state of half dress.
"Gone to play at war, missy? Wonder what kind of pounding you can handle, eh boys!" jeered one man. The others laughed wickedly.
"None of that, men. We are here to fetch a price, not something nice." said the leader as they lowered Swiftail. "We got ourselves a talker! Muzzle him and make him row! You, missy, can make do with a box. Quiet one. You better not be trouble!"
Scarlette was lowered down. She saw a galley ship on the river. They took her from the net and loaded head first into a box. They carried her onto the ship and put her on a stack of boxes just like hers. Soon they were moving. All was silent. She was thirsty. She realized they were too busy getting her loaded swiftly to take her belongings. She craned her head up and carefully uncorked her water skin. She sipped slowly to avoid spilling.
"Miss? I heard they captured an Amazon. Miss? Is that water? Are you a beneficent warrior?" asked a voice below her. She nearly answered before remembering she was to say nothing. Still, she squirmed onto her side and slowly poured a trickle of water through the slats of their boxes. He made a startled cry as the water splashed on his lips. "Thank you, hero. Thank you." Scarlette said nothing. "I suppose you don't fancy strangers much. Me neither. I was plucked from near my home. Now Bang'Ai awaits. I do hope my poor dog finds a new home." he choked. "To be truthful, it's Mad Molly to blame. No ill can be spoken of the Queen's name, thus Mad Molly. She has handed the land to Calormene interests. Any man or woman not of means can be plucked from their homes and sold as chattel." he coughed heavily. "This bodes ill. I've but one arm."
Scarlette nearly replied, but stopped herself.
"The giants have monsterous appetites. They do not draw the line at talking creatures. They cannot afford to. They buy whole lots of slaves for consumption. We are kept as honored guests until the day comes when we are drugged, our necks snapped, and we are cleaned and gutted and put in a pie." There was silence after that.
Scarlette let her mind wander. She thought back to 'closed dorms' at Job Corp when everyone was to be cleaning their rooms and the rest of their floor. They would pick songs from eachothers phones and make two playlists for the two hours. Charlize always chose the Marilyn Manson cover of the boat ride song from "Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory", the classic one. It was fitting. She thought about how much that song would freak out the other people stacked in boxes around her. She almost laughed.
They sailed for two days, ever rowing except to stop and raid the countryside for more chattel. She heard them crying as they were loaded on board. And then the foreman would crack his whip and begin with the "Heave, Ho" chant to keep the rowers at a consistent speed. After many days of this she could smell death on the ship. Her water was gone.
A welcome sound came to her ears: the sea. The air improved and some of the crew found and dumped some of the dead. Still, she heard the "Heave, Ho" from the galley below. Then came a change. "Portside rest! Aft and Starboard, heave! Helmsman, steer!" and they began to swerve. The light vanishes and the sound of the oars in the water grew and echo. They were underground. "Heave, ho!" They sailed beneath the mountains.
They sailed on and on. Scarlette was thirsty and covered in her own piss and shit like everyone else. The smell was close and pressing. With no daylight and nothing to mark each moment as unique, there was no way of knowing how long they rowed underground. There was only the pernicious thirst. Soon the smell of raw sewage was joined by other smells, and then came echoed sounds from a city. They had arrived.
One by one, their crates were unloaded.
"Knock back if ye be living." said a man to each crate in turn. The silent were thrown onto a roaring pire, box and all. Those who replied were removed from the crates, given water, and directed to stand in a line as someone came along to take away their clothing and belongings. Scarlette watched this person nervously as the one armed man near her explained his skills to a man with quill and parchment.
"I have farmhand experience as well as book keeping. I can read and write. I was an apprentice blacksmith before I lost my arm. I had been working as a trapper by trade since. I know the land."
"Hand me your pack and undress." said a small and thin fellow with a bag. Scarlette remebered what Aslan had told her. She punched the man in the face. He covered his bleeding nose and silently curled into a ball. Every being present went silent and looked at her. She realized two things: it was about to go down and Aslan said nothing about not using the sword before delivering it. She slipped the tie holding the hilt to the wrapped scabbard and drew it slowly. That is when all hell broke loose. There were any number of ways by which she could've made herself into a target and she found two in less than 40 seconds.
Mayhem ensued. She fought one handed til she could breathe a little, then she tied her pack to her front and continued until she had broken through the processing area where slaves are stripped and cleaned to the main open area where customers did their business. She was pursued by guards who besseeched the bystanders to assist in her capture. She quickly hid.
Blaze looked down at the loinclothed form of Beryl, whom he had purchased as a housekeeper. Her head was bashed in. Her broker stood next to him.
"She was discovered like this at dawn when the men brought breakfast. Nobody claims to have seen anything of course. A pity. She was a beauty. Would you like a replacement or a refund?" asked the slavebroker.
"Let me think about it." Blaze replied. He turned to walk away, Beryl's papers in hand. As he reached the open area of the slave ports, he saw the commotion. Unlike others who either rushed forward to assist in her capture or pretended conspicuously to not see her, Blaze kept his eye on her from the top stair of the slave cells and saw where she hid.
He casually sauntered down the steps and meandered his way next to her hiding spot, appearing to all observant individuals to be adrift in a tempest of chaos. Soon he was free of the crowd. Without looking under the boardwalk she was sheltered beneath, he said in a voice thst was just audible: "I can get you out of here. Follow me to the end of the walk and we will jet around the guardhouse to the gate."
Scarlette said nothing but dared to take a look at her benefactor. She saw that he was a) not quite human, and b) he had two ridges of horns on his head with a jet black natural mohawk between. She decided to follow him.
They made it to the gate and weren't intercepted, though there were strange looks from the men in the line with their naked chattel as well as comments on the smell of her still-soiled leather pants. She saw one Calormen holding that white fucking rabbit.
"Try and catch me now, bitch!" he said.
When they reached the gatesman, Blaze showed Beryl's papers with a couple gold pieces on top. The guards let them through. Scarlette looked back in time to see a giant lift a giant cage full of slaves like a cat carrier. She saw the one armed man looking back at her from the cage.
"And this is where we part." said Blaze. "What I did is a crime so best we dont know eachothers names. I wish you much fortune in your new life. You are free." he turned and walked away.
Stalking someone in an urban area is difficult, Scarlette discovered, but she managed to keep the Mohawked Man in sight long enough to see where he stays. She huddled topless in a cold alleyway between rubbish piles to block wind. She looked up and saw that the cavern had a great crack across the roof that let in a fair amount of daylight. She waited.
Night came and she saw soft candle light coming from the front windows of his modest house just below the edge of the great crack. She waited until the candle light moved upstairs and then jumped the fence to his sloping rock back garden with its water pump and clothes line. She waited for the candle light to extinguish and then she waited 10 minutes more before refilling her water skin and pumping herself a bucket of water to wash with.
She creeped to the back kitchen door and found the lock easy to negotiate. She entered and found soap and cloths in a drawer of a breakfront. She went back outside and stripped. The smell got worse. She looked down at her crotch with humiliation. The shit was everywhere. She threw the once-good leather pants on the trash heap and used a trickle of water from the bucket to rinse away the foulness. Then she dumped the freezing water over herself and made a startled squeaking noise. She froze and looked up to the bedroom window. Nothing. She pumped more water, realizing that was loud enough and if that didn't wake him, she was probably safe.
She wet a cloth and soaped it. She soaped herself up and scrubbed with the rough linen. She put the bar itself to her hair and lathered as best she could, shivering. She poured the cold water slowly over her hair to rinse and filled the bucket a final time to rinse her body. She got most of the soap off and decided that was enough.
She grabbed a sage green tunic from the clothes line and a towel. She dried off and dressed before going inside, bringing her pack and sword in with her but leaving her boots and armor outside.
She went through the drawers and cabinets and found some table cloths and napkins.
"Good enough." she said. She proceeded to make herself a floor bed. She stepped on a loose floorboard and had an idea. She lifted the board up and it revealed just enough space to hide the sword and her pack. She stashed her stuff and then curled up in layers of table cloths, layed her head on a pillow of napkins, and went to sleep.
Hello, my pretties! It's Lupus. In Narnia, I'd be a werewolf. But here, I suffice as a literary disease bringing you narratives you never asked for but dearly deserve. The suggested listening for this chapter is the mentioned song, "Boatride".